


Day 08: Patience

by RyuuShinobi



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Domestic Fluff, M/M, wing fortress au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuuShinobi/pseuds/RyuuShinobi
Summary: Spy promises something delicious, but Soldier’s too impatient to wait for it. More wings because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	Day 08: Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on Tumblr forever ago, but just now decided to make minor edits to publish it here. Thanks for reading & enjoy!

“But is it ready now?” Soldier asked for the umpteenth time.

And Spy's brow furrowed. He could feel it in his arms, his shoulders, and creeping into his wings, the way the muscles bunched and tensed every time he responded. “ _Non_ , I said it’s not ready the last time you asked. Now please,  _mon beau_ , have a little more _patience_ ,” he stressed the last word, as if that would help it stick longer than a second inside Soldier’s mind.

For the moment, it worked. Soldier was quiet and Spy was able to continue stirring the milk inside the pot on the stove. And the longer Soldier kept his lips together, the happier Spy was.

While Spy took his time heating up the milk, Soldier twiddled his thumbs. He pulled a brown-feathered wing forward to run his hands through each primary. And when he was done with that, he worked on the secondary feathers. He kept his hands to himself as best as he could until he gave in to his impatience and placed both hands on Spy’s slim shoulders. Like a too-tall child, Soldier peered over Spy’s frame, over his black wings, and down at the stove. Spy promised delicious drinks, and so far this was nothing but a waiting game that Soldier was tired of playing.

Though Soldier had shut his mouth, Spy could still feel the tension in the air. It was thick between them, obvious with the way Soldier continue to move, first pacing behind him, then stopping to intently fiddle with his fingers and feathers, and finally, when Soldier laid his hands on Spy. Those hands, the ones that held rocket launchers and shotguns and shovels with an iron grip, those hands that have killed men of all shapes and sizes, those hands were shaking with impatience.

It was becoming a game to Spy. He turned down the heat, low as it would go, (here, Soldier’s hands tightened around Spy’s shoulders), and merely stirred. A slow, leisurely pace, like walking through a springtime trail. Stopping to smell every flower, and watch every bird. Spy enjoyed it. It’s how he approached many situations. Calm, collected, and casual. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of burning gas, and allowing his eyes to flutter shut, if even for a moment.

“How about now?”

The moment passed, and Spy’s eyes snapped open. “ _Oui, oui_ ,” he sighed, turning off the gas. “Yes, it’s ready. Get two mugs, if you would? And my bag of chocolate from the pantry,  _mon beau_.” While Soldier bounced off to do what he was told, Spy looked down at the now-warm milk, giving it a quick stir with the wooden spoon. Perfect temperature, he decided after slipping off a glove to wave his hand over the pot.

Soldier returned with the requested items, setting them down on the counter with three light thumps. There was a wide grin on his face, and he gave his head a small shake to jiggle his helmet up just a tad higher. He couldn’t help the way his wings flared just the tiniest bit, fluttering and shaking with not impatience now, but rather excitement.

And Spy himself couldn’t help returning Soldier’s grin with one of his own. He lifted the pot. “Now watch and learn,  _mon ami_. You are about to have some delicious hot chocolate. None of that cheap crap with water and powder packets. This real hot chocolate.”

His hands steady, Spy poured a generous amount of milk into each mug, doing his best to keep them even, while leaving room to prevent spills. He then set the pot aside, making a note to clean it later. With a soup spoon, he measured out enough chocolate for the both of them, and began to mix. The chocolate chips were small and melted quickly, turning the creamy milk dark brown with every stir.

Lightly beating his wings, Soldier leaned forward, propping up his elbows on the counter-top, with his head cocked to watch. It wasn’t until Spy deemed the drinks thoroughly mixed that Soldier was allowed to snatch up one of the mugs for himself. He sniffed at it, smelling the sweet chocolate, and dipped the tip of his tongue in for a taste.

Over the rim of his own mug, Spy watched the other man, an amused and knowing look on his face.

Smacking his lips together, Soldier beamed, and slurped down a large gulp of his drink. “You were right! This is delicious! Thank you, man crouton!”

Spy spluttered, choking on his hot chocolate with the way Soldier butchered both his native language and accent.


End file.
